


To Be or Not To Be

by kurtwagnerok



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Character Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:11:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurtwagnerok/pseuds/kurtwagnerok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt wasn't always this dramatic, it had something to do with his mother, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be or Not To Be

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic on here but I'm pretty proud at how it turned out, considering the fact that I'm obsessed with anything Nightcrawler...so enjoy.

Kurt was infamous for always being able to dramatize anything. It just came naturally to him to add flair to everything he did. Sometimes when making breakfast he unknowingly put on a show for the groggy children by flipping and twirling and teleporting his way through the kitchen.

Being a natural entertainer was just something in his bones, like acrobatics, it was his gift. Often he found himself being melodramatic during moments when it was unneeded—it wasn't something he did on purpose, he would swear to the lord up and down, but it just came to him involuntarily to raise and smooth out his voice, or to balance on his tail, or to just teleport instead of walk.

Maybe his talent for dramatics stemmed from this odd way Kurt had of going unnoticed, somehow he managed to be invisible despite his devilish looks. Sometimes Kurt would slip on a trench coat and take a walk in the park and besides the initial looks he began to blend in with the trees and benches like they were shadows that matched his skin.

He wasn't always this dramatic—it started when he was eleven and he was going to be in his first show because he was finally old enough to perform with the best of the Munich Circus. He was naturally gifted with his ability to have a body like fluid, and this meant that he was a talented acrobat (his mother thought he was the best).

Kurt remembers his throat feeling tight, his mother was straightening the collar on his costume and she had that smile—that smile that she reserved for when she couldn't contain her excitement but held it in because she wanted to be a role model for Kurt, he just blamed his throat on the tight collar but then he realized that it was nervousness that was set deep in his belly. Looking up at his mother, he began to think: what if he messed up or fell, or worse, what if he disappointed his mother?

Margali took her thumb and wet it with her tongue before pushing back a blue strand of hair that fell between Kurt's brow.

"Mama."

"Oui?" Margali said, her voice fluid like silk. Even when she wasn't singing she could be mistaken for always belting out a slick lullaby. Her French was very beautiful and she was teaching Kurt as well but it always frustrated him when he didn't match her soothing tone. She assured him that it was just harder because German was more in the throat and guttural rather than on the tongue.

"Ich habe mich anders entschlossen."

Margali's hands stilled and her smile wasn't as vibrant but she continued to play with Kurt's hair. It wasn't up to her standards and that same strand of hair would stay in place in between his brows. She was very meticulous when it came to appearances but she refused to put any products on Kurt's skin or hair, she once told him that he had the most natural beauty out of anyone but Kurt thought that it was just her being motherly.

"Ich will nicht sie zu enttäuschen." Kurt said, his head falling low and once again that same irritating piece of hair fell between his eyes.

Margali pushed it back in place before taking the boy's face in her hands and kissing both of his cheeks, her smile returned. "You could never disappoint me."

So Kurt didn't participate that showing instead he watched between the curtains and practiced what the other performers were doing down to their expressions, he has them copied down so well that he could be mistaken for them but he didn't want to copy them, he wanted to be himself.

He tried copying his mother—he mimicked her expressions, moved how she did when she was dancing and singing but it wasn't quite right. His mother had this form uniquely hers. When she danced, her hips moved to a beat of their own music and when she sang it was smooth like those French pastries she made for him.

The next showing when Margali was prepping him, she had that same smile as she fixed his hair and this time that piece of hair was tame (his throat wasn't tight either). The red and yellow costume looked perfect on him, his mother said it brought out his skin.

Kurt was going to be performing last, on the trapeze. Mr. Wagner told him that there wasn't going to be a net, and he patted Kurt's shoulder with his big hand and told him that he believed in him.

When it was finally time, Kurt walked through the curtains and he felt the eyes of the crowd trained on him—they were whispering about his appearance, nothing malicious but they thought it was a gimmick or makeup. Kurt took his time climbing the ladder, his toes gripping tight as he throat began to close up the higher he got to the top.

He shook a little when he peered over the edge, he wasn't like the best of the Munich Circus. He was Kurt Wagner, blue-skinned and all. His mother had this way of moving when she performed, it was undoubtedly something only she could do, so like her this was going to be something only he could do.

Taking a deep breath, with his mother on his mind Kurt took off and grasped the bar in his hands. He wasn't going to fall. When he let go and did a back flip into the air and onto the next bar, he wondered if being yourself came as easily to his mother.

From then on Kurt participated in other things besides the trapeze. Every time he flipped and acted out scenes he thought of how his mother had that unique way of dancing and singing—Kurt had found his own version of that.

*

It was second-nature, to perform and dramatize everything. So when he was reading the French cookbook with it balanced on his tail and dancing around the kitchen, he didn't notice the crowd he was attracting.

"What are you making?" Rogue asked.

Kurt teleported away, she startled him. Bobby was leaning against the counter smirking a little but then reverting back into his cool mood (no punt intended).

"Choucroute Garnie." Kurt said and he frowned when it didn't sound like how his mother would say it, his accent made things sound weird.

"Smells good." Rogue said, ever so cheerful. Kurt admired her, even the stuff she went through she alway managed to be in a jovial mood. Kurt went back to the stove and using his hand, he pushed the pan so the meat would cook on the other side. Using his tail he closed the book and set it on the counter next to Bobby who looked at the tail.

"That's cool how you do that." Rogue said.

"Do what, liebling?"

"I don't know, you always seem to be performing." Rogue shrugged.

"Well I was the Amazing Nightcrawler in the Munich Circus." Kurt said, his arms spreading out to his sides as he stood on his tiptoes. Rogue smiled at that.

"I guess that kind of explains it."

Kurt had found his dancing and singing like his mother and it felt good to know that he could never disappoint her.

**Author's Note:**

> Ich habe mich anders entschlossen ~ I change my mind
> 
> Ich will nicht, Sie zu enttäuschen ~ I don't want to disappoint you.


End file.
